


Demons

by 30xf



Series: 201 Days Of X Files [95]
Category: The X-Files
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-16
Updated: 2020-05-16
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:01:08
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,275
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24211765
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/30xf/pseuds/30xf
Series: 201 Days Of X Files [95]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/315719
Kudos: 7





	Demons

Scully has been babysitting me for days now. She comes over after work and stays late, only to return early in the morning to drive me to work. She's afraid I'll run off again. I just don't know if she's keeping track of me for her own reasons, or if she's under order of Skinner. I should be annoyed, but she's got every reason to worry. I've run off plenty of times and it seems lately every time I do, someone dies. And Scully gets reamed out by Skinner. So there she sits, on my couch, drifting off to sleep. I'm not sure as her head appears to be at a very uncomfortable angle. She's still got the newspaper in her lap, though her hands have dropped and she's crumpled it. In short, she's exhausted. 

I get up from my chair and start tidying up the remnants of our Chinese take out from earlier. Once the coffee table is clear, I sit on it, just beside where her feet rest, crossed at the ankles. I consider her for a long while, wondering why this matters to her--why I matter to her. She's got enough to deal with in her life, the least of which being the cancer that lives in her head. And yet rather than being at home, getting much needed rest in her comfortable bed, she's starting to drool a little on my marginally comfortable couch. 

We've talked about most of what happened already--about how I held my gun pointed at her and told her I was going to shoot her. She didn't believe I would do it. I honestly don't know if I did. That was the part that really bothered me. My mind was so lost in distorted memories that I held Scully at gunpoint because she interrupted me when I had the gun to my own head. I don't even know if I would have shot myself. So many uncertainties, Scully said, meant that we shouldn't even worry about it. "It belongs in the past," she'd told me. But I know better. I know she's probably had dreams that ended much different than the reality. I know I sure have. They were alternate realities so devastating to me that I couldn't look her in the eye in the morning. But she wants to move past it, so I will try.

I carefully take the paper from Scully's hand and fold it, fidgeting with it as she starts to stir.

She frowns at me from under tired and heavy eyelids. "I was reading that," she says, her voice deep and slurred.

"I didn't know you'd developed the ability to read with your eyes closed," I tease, tapping her gently on the thigh with the paper.

"I wasn't asleep," she lies, though I think she believes herself. She sinks down further into the couch and crosses her arms over her chest. 

I toss the paper over to my desk and get up, beginning to pace. "How long are you gonna do this?" I ask, managing to sound conversational.

"Do what?" she asks through a yawn.

A glance over at her tells her I know she knows what I'm talking about. "I'm not gonna wander off anywhere, Scully. I promise."

"I feel like I've heard that from you before," she says, and I can hear the grin in her voice.

Running my hand through my hair, I ignore her attempt at humour. "I think I've discovered enough family secrets to last me a while."

I hear her moving around and am not surprised when she appears next to me. Her presence stops me in my tracks, standing at my desk looking out the window. She leans against the desk to face me, slipping her hands in the pockets of her dress pants. I do the same, aware she's probably trying to convey a casual air in order to keep me calm. "Do you believe her?" she asks hesitantly. 

I know immediately what she's talking about--she wants to know if I believe what my mother told me about her and the Smoking Man. I knew she'd be able to hear our conversation through the door; taking my mother into the other room had merely been for my mother's benefit. I shrug, honestly unsure of my answer. "I want to," is all I can manage. 

Scully nods, looking down at her feet. "Have you talked to her since then?" I shake my head. "You should."

My jaw clenches with unreleased tension. I look past Scully, out into the street and find that, with the moonlight coming in and the darkness of my apartment, she is nothing more than a silhouette in my field of vision. I purposely avoid looking at her. Honestly, if she were any other woman in the world I might try to make a move on her. Just to relieve some small amount of the stress that's been coursing through my body for the past week. But it's Scully, and I know better. Despite having had similar thoughts over the years, I do know better. And so I pull out my desk chair and sit with a heavy sigh. "It's a little late to call her now," I state the obvious.

She accepts my temporary excuse with a quiet nod. I'm sure she knows I'll have another excuse when she suggests a phone call again at a more reasonable hour. "I guess I should head home," she says, the exhaustion clear in her voice.

"You should just sleep on the couch, Scully," I tell her, standing and pushing my chair back in. "You sound pretty tired."

"And where would you sleep?" she asks, the mischievous grin at the corner of her lips effectively starting me on a path out of my melancholy. 

"I do have a bed, you know," I comment, feigning hurt. 

"By the time you dig it out from under all those boxes it'll be time to go to work," she jokes, though she's probably not far from the truth. She moves around the apartment, gathering her bag and her coat and slipping her heels on. "You get some sleep, Mulder," she instructs as she heads for the door.

"Call me when you get home," I tell her, following her to the door. I know she'll probably forget to call, just as I know she'll manage to keep herself awake for the drive. Still, I also know I won't sleep until I know she's made it to her bed, safe and sound. I briefly consider suggesting I drive her home and sleep on her couch, but I can already imagine the raised eyebrow and four letter words she'd throw at me for that. "Drive carefully," I call to her as the elevator doors close.

Some time later I'm in my pajamas, settled in on the couch with a terrible old movie on the TV. I reach for the phone, dialing Scully's number without even looking. She forgot to call, and she's going to be mad, but my eyes have been drooping to no avail for quite a while now. She picks up after the third ring. 

"If you're calling to tell me you're anywhere but your apartment, I'm going to be seriously fucking pissed."

I chuckle into the phone, "I'm in my jammies watching TV on my couch like a good boy. I just wanted to make sure you made it home."

"I made it home. I was asleep. I'm going to be grumpy tomorrow if this conversation continues at all."

"I'll see you in the morning, Scully," I smile, and the phone clicks in my ear.


End file.
